Diary of a Crush: French Kiss (3 page)

I was going round in circles, so Dylan decided to take charge. ‘There’s this old ruined abbey halfway to the moors that we should go to,’ he announced suddenly, sitting up straight. ‘You’ll love it, it’s all Gothicky Revivaly.’ He shot me a slightly evil smile and yay me because I managed to roll my eyes rather than do what I normally do which is turn bright red and start hyper-ventilating.

‘OK, whatever,’ I mumbled.

‘I’ve got to work on Saturday so let’s do it Sunday week,’ Dylan continued. He was being very take charge, which was quite impressive. If I have to organise a cinema outing, it usually takes me at least a day to decide what film to see. ‘I’ll come round to yours for about one and then we can drive up there,’ he said.

All I could think about was that Dylan was going to drive me,
in his car
, to an old, ruined abbey a few miles out of town. I’m going to be trapped in a small, enclosed space with Dylan for at least an hour each way.

When Dylan and I walked out of the classroom, Shona was waiting for him. It was very awkward. Dylan suddenly grabbed my hand as I was about to scurry away, which startled me and made me crash into the wall, and he said, ‘Shona, Edie. Edie, Shona.’ Shona gave me this really pointed look and said very icily, ‘Yes, I know.’

What the hell is going on?

The weirdest day, ever. I didn’t see Dylan, but I bumped into Shona in the Cancer Research shop. We both made a lunge for this gorgeous Sixties-ish dress with cherries printed on it. Just as I was about to give it up and beg her not to hurt me, she smiled and said, ‘Oh, this would look way better on you.’

I tried it on and it looked fab. I was really surprised to find Shona lurking around the till and I nearly fainted when she asked me to go for a coffee with her. Like, we were friends and she didn’t mind being seen with a total geek girl. In the end I skipped French and spent the whole afternoon hanging with her. She asked me what I thought of Dylan’s mates, Simon and Paul, but then she started pumping me for information on who Mia was dating. I told her all about Mia getting me drunk and how Dylan had rescued my fringe and she was like, ‘Mia’s the biggest bitch this side of the equator, keep away from her.’

I was sort of trying to find out whether Shona and Dylan had ever bumped uglies, but basically I was just going on and on about him in a really sad fashion. Shona wouldn’t admit anything – she just smiled knowingly. Before we went our separate ways, she suddenly gripped my arm tightly and said, ‘Don’t get too besotted with Dylan, Edie. He eats up little girls like you for breakfast.’

Was that friendly advice or a warning to back the hell off?

Nat and Trent forced me to go trick or treating with them. They decided to go as Jedward and I dressed up as a dead girl from a splatter movie.

So there I was tramping the streets covered in fake blood with a rubber pick-axe stuck to my back. The carrier bag of chocolate we’d got was almost worth it, until I saw Dylan and a huge bunch of his mates (well, like, five of them) coming towards us. THERE WAS NOWHERE TO HIDE!!! I ran across two busy lanes of traffic and nearly succeeded in getting mown down by a bus and replacing my fake blood with a couple of pints of the real thing.

Nat and Trent told me I hadn’t got away with it anyway. They’d heard Dylan say, ‘Someone’s parents never taught her to look both ways when she’s crossing the road.’ Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.

Nat and Trent were like, ‘Time to engage the brain cell,’ but I think I looked so desolate that they finally stopped teasing me (which they’d done mercilessly for about half an hour) and shared their chocolate with me instead.

When I went to get some books out of my locker at lunchtime, I found a note from Shona asking me if I wanted to go to a gig with her next week and to give her a ring.

I went swimming at lunchtime and afterwards, as I hurried out of the sports centre, I bumped into Dylan. When I say bumped, I actually mean that I hurtled into him with all the velocity of a high-speed train. I had Tinie Tempah on my iPod and he always makes me walk really, really fast. Dylan put his hands out to steady me and I could feel them through my T-shirt. I had wet hair and tatty old trackie bottoms on, why couldn’t he see me when I looked less dorkish?

‘I’ve been swimming,’ I said, as if he couldn’t already tell. Dylan still had his hands on my shoulders and he sort of gently pushed me against the wall and bent his head, so his lips were almost touching mine and whispered, ‘We’ve got a date on Sunday. See you then, kid.’ And off he sauntered.

Although I’m really into Dylan, I hate the way that he treats me like his little personal plaything. I think he must know that I fancy him, which is horrible enough, but why does he have to make me feel so lame about it?

I’m thawing out in front of the fire with a mug of hot choc and a headful of strange thoughts.

Dylan picked me up this lunchtime in this tiny bashed-up car. I had to sit with my knees hunched against the dashboard because my seat wouldn’t go back and when Dylan got in it seemed even more cramped. Our eyes met in the driver’s mirror and we both smiled. Time seemed to get really slow and then stop altogether.

He said, ‘It’s OK, Edie. I know,’ (which I think is the first time he’s ever said my name and just confirmed my worst fears that he’d guessed I had a planet-sized crush on him) before putting on a Beatles CD and starting the car.

I never wanted the journey to end. Occasionally Dylan’s hand would brush my leg as he changed gears but it wasn’t sleazy, it didn’t even make my heart skip a couple of beats, it just felt really, well,
right
. I sunk as far as I could into the seat and listened to the music and the car purring along the country roads. Dylan and I were silent but it wasn’t awkward; it was, like, the most comfortable quiet in the world.

When we got there, wherever
there
was – I didn’t have a clue – I had to scramble over the driver’s seat, because he’d parked against a hedge. Dylan just stood there while I tried not to snag my woolly tights. I wished I hadn’t worn a dress.

‘You could’ve helped me,’ I muttered.

Dylan just grinned. ‘You seemed to manage very well all by yourself.’

‘Charming,’ I said witheringly, but you could tell I didn’t really mean it.

We had to scramble up this hill with, like, a force 10 gale blowing, so Dylan grabbed my hand and pulled me up behind him. The ruins were all twisty and pointy, a bit like Dylan. He was fiddling with my camera.

‘You ready for your close-up then?’ he asked with a smile. There was no way I was going to let Dylan photograph me, I felt vulnerable enough. I snatched the camera back.

‘No, I wanna take pictures of
you
. It’s my camera.’

Dylan shrugged, then stood there glaring at me. ‘Come on, then.’

He was ruining everything by going weird and moody. It made me feel very aggressive. I yanked him, so he was standing in a crumbling doorway and then shoved the camera lens towards his face and took photos as fast as I could. I surprise myself sometimes. Then he surprised me by pushing the camera away and kissing me.

I knew then that nothing else mattered because I wanted to die from Dylan’s kisses. He did things to my mouth that made me realise what it was for. All the time I’d been using it to eat and talk and blow bubbles from wads of Hubba Bubba and instead its sole purpose in life was to be the place where Dylan’s tongue stroked along my teeth and the insides of my cheeks and danced with mine.

I realise now that the way that someone kisses is as individual as the way they do their hair. Also, there’s no right or wrong way to do it. It was a major revelation. When Dylan kissed me, I couldn’t help but believe that I was the only girl in the world that he’d never get enough of and it made me fall a whole lot more in love with him.

His hands were in my hair and his lips were on mine and it was like everything and nothing that I’d expected. It seemed to last for ages before
he
pushed me away.

‘That didn’t happen,’ he hissed, narrowing his eyes. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

On the way back down the hill to the car, I slipped and fell over. Dylan didn’t even help me, he just watched impatiently while I scrambled to my feet. We drove back in this horrible silence and I couldn’t get out of the car fast enough when we got to my house. He was already driving off before I’d even shut the door.

What the hell did I do wrong?

Dylan ignored me all day. As luck would have it, I kept bumping into him everywhere I went but it was like I was invisible; he just brushed past me like a sudden gust of cold air.

Shona kept pestering me about going to some gig tonight. She was really friendly and I wanted to ask her if she’d spoken to Dylan but I was too chicken.

I didn’t feel like going out but Shona wouldn’t take no for an answer. She came round to my house and lounged on my bed while I decided to wear my new dress with the cherries on it and a little red cardie. She’s not at all scary now that I know her, but she
is
annoyingly tight-lipped about Dylan.

‘So did Dylan say anything about me then?’ I plucked up the courage to ask, after about ten minutes.

‘No,’ Shona replied flatly, flicking through my copy of
The Virgin Suicides
. ‘Any reason why he should?’

I pretended to be doing my hair but really I wanted to look at Shona without her realising it. To see if she was twitching or something and therefore lying about Dylan not saying anything.

‘Oh, it’s just we went out the other afternoon to do this project and I thought he might have mentioned it,’ I said ultra-casually but Shona just shrugged.

And when we got to the club, who do we see but Dylan with
Mia
all over him! Shona made a beeline for them, and I trailed (unwillingly) along behind her. She and Dylan started having this really quiet, really heated debate, while Mia looked me up and down with this really evil smirk on her face. I had to get away, she was doing my head in, so I got myself a drink and wandered off to watch the band, which is when I started talking to this skate kid. He kept telling me that I looked really fresh and I knew Dylan was watching me, so I smiled at this guy and touched his arm while he wittered on. Then skate kid grabbed me and shoved his tongue down my throat, which was so inappropriate and
ewwww
that it took a while to actually process what was happening. I pushed him away and told him to cut it out, just in time to see Dylan looking at me with a disgusted expression on his face.

I didn’t go and find Shona, I didn’t even tell Dylan that he was a treacherous, two-faced git, I just shot out of the club, ran all the way home and collapsed on my bed.

I’ve been spending a lot of time hanging out with Nat and Trent (who
must
be gay. Or else they just really, really like show tunes). In fact, they’re coming round to mine at the weekend for pizza and a Ryan Gosling DVD marathon. Shona asked why I hadn’t stuck around to see the band last night and I was like, ‘Some guy kept trying to suck face with me and wouldn’t take no for an answer,’ in the hope that she’d tell Dylan. But she just kept going on about what a witch Mia was.

I had Photography class in the afternoon. Dylan and I were meant to be developing the pictures we took but he obviously didn’t want to be alone in a darkroom with me and we were chaperoned by Simon and Paul. Dylan slumped at the end of the bench glowering and talked to Simon in low murmurs (I distinctly heard the words ‘she’s a fucking headcase’) while me and Paul actually managed to do the developing. I was glad it was dark. It’s easier to hide your emotions when the lights are dim.

As Dylan’s face emerged from the photographic paper, I felt my insides turn to mush. His eyes seemed to look right through me and then I glanced at the real Dylan and it made me sad and angry that he couldn’t even bring himself to look in my direction. Paul walked me to the top of my road. I don’t fancy him, thank God, because one crush is about all I can handle, he’s just very easy to talk to. But when I mentioned that I’d been hanging with Shona he went all quiet. And when I muttered something about Mia, he nearly tripped over his feet. I just don’t understand boy-shapes.

I had a fantabulous time with Nat and Trent yesterday. I knew I was right about the gay thing because a) they insisted that we watch
The Notebook
twice! And b) they ’fessed all.

I’d just gone to get some more garlic bread out of the oven and when I came back they were all whispery but looked up immediately.

‘Were you talking about me? Was it about me and Dylan?’ I asked suspiciously because I have a one-track mind. Well, I have a several-track mind but they all go in the same Dylanwards direction.

I tapped my foot and glared at them while they nudged each other until Trent blurted out: ‘We’re gay. You know that, right?’ And, honestly, they looked so scared like I was about to start screaming that I burst out laughing and said, ‘Hey, what else is new?’ It was all cool.

But today? Urgh! Mia and two of her hench-women cornered me in the loos.

‘I want a word with you, you skanky slut,’ were her first words. I almost dropped my make-up bag in the sink. WTF? ‘Excuse me?’ I said because I was too astounded to even be scared.

But Mia grabbed me by the wrist and slammed me right against the paper towel dispenser. ‘You’re such a ho,’ she hissed. ‘Everyone knows you’ve got off with Dylan
and
Paul.’

She was right in my face, practically spitting with venom and I felt all shaky and weepy ’cause when someone’s nose to nose with you and giving you aggro, it’s quite traumatising. Plus I didn’t have a clue what she was going on about. I’d kissed Dylan. I’d had major kissing with Dylan and now he was treating me like a leper and as for Paul… Since when did walking home with someone equal letting them have a quick feel?